Lives in a Bottle
by myownmistress
Summary: Beck Oliver wasn't one for regretting. But it suddenly occured to him that he would be regretting ever giving Andre the God damn keys.
1. Flirts

**This is horrible, I know. This was written a while back, when people still gave a damn about proper grammar. I was originally not going to post it because of its suckish nature. But I though maybe **_**someone somewhere**_** would enjoy reading this. If you want me to continue, leave a review. If you don't, leave a review. Simple.**

**Victorious and I used to date. But it broke up with me and went to Dan.**

**It's not mine.**

_**Lives in a Bottle**_

_Chapter 1: Flirts_

Bar= Nineteen year-old's best friend.

The guzzling of beer isn't the (main) reason underage teens return time after time to clubs. It's the swell of emotion the get while successfully delivering a bogus ID and getting away with it.

Then the rush dies down when they're one bottle away from being tanked and they get a call like this.

"_Where are you?"_

"At… my… RV."

His hiccups are a dead give away.

"_You're drinking."_

"Babe, I'm not … drunk."

Shit.

"_I never said you were."_

"…"

Hiccup.

The half empty bottle grazed his expecting lips right before and angry girlfriend confronted him again.

"_Forget it. I'm coming to get you. You're such an idiot."_

He sighed and set the glass container on the lavish table before him.

"Love you too."

The call ended.

This kind of over protectiveness from Jade showed him that she still cared deeply about him. But he's a big boy and is capable of fending for himself.

She's care-free and dangerous by nature, but only with herself. Not him.

A soft moan escaped his mouth as he rose to exit the tavern. The scenery around him started to whirl. His balance faltered and he stumbled on his drinking buddy, Andre.

Beck chuckled half heartedly at the sight of his friend rolling around on the disgustingly appropriate pink tile.

Actually, he was only there because the "love of his life" Tori had found a new man to please her needs. (Bastard)

Beck extended a hand to offer some help to the love drunk pianist.

He didn't take it.

"Come on, dude. Jade's going be here any minute to get me."

The smirk that had adorned Andre's face promptly fell. Even when intoxicated, men understood to fear a potentially furious girlfriend.

He didn't need help getting up now.

The duo twirled and tripped out of the club and were greeted with the chill of night.

Their teeth began to chatter as Andre frantically searched for his car keys. He looked all around himself, on the floor even, and caused his dreads to fly everywhere.

"Man, where are my keys?"

In his desperation, he failed to notice a grinning Beck.

"I dunno."

Hiccup.

As Andre looked up, Beck spread his arms out in front of himself to add to his confession. But the object of the interrogation was lying in his open palm for all to see. Realizing his blunder, the teen swiftly enclosed the keys with his hand and hid both behind his back.

"How'd you get my keys?"

"I got em' while you were flirting with the bar tender."

Beck started to rock back and forth, as if his robbery was innocent.

"Can I have my keys back?" He took a step forward with his demand.

Beck's swaying ceased as his features became grave.

"You're drunk."

"You too."

Sharp. Quick. Undoubtful.

"Yeah," he began, "but Jade's coming to get me. You should come too."

For a split second, Beck thought that Andre had actually considered his invitation. But being the stubborn song writer he was, he wouldn't alter his decision.

"Beck." He stood with a stern look waiting for the item.

Beck stood a step forward and hovered the jingling keys directly in front of his schoolmate's face.

"Drive safe?"

"Always."

And with that, Andre scurried over to his worn out four wheeler. With nothing surrounding him but crickets and the soft hum of the night club behind him, Beck suddenly felt alone. Jade said she'd be coming, but who knew when she'd actually get here.

The roar of Andre's engine snapped him out of his thoughts.

Andre gave a slight wave to the boyfriend patiently waiting for his girlfriend.

As the vibration of his friend's motor disappeared into the distance, Beck began to fiddle with some stones.

He tested his strength by throwing and kicking them, feeling bad for the objects at times.

Then he heard the crash.


	2. Metal

**Hello all! Okay, so I was awe struck at the reception this got. Really. For those of you who asked for longer chapters, I'm sorry. I don't know why, but I seem incapable of writing chapters with 900 words or more. I'm a lunatic. Oh, and with vacation over, I may not be able to update as fast as I'd like to. This will most likely not have an excess of 6 chapters. Without further ado, Enjoy!**

**Disclaimers on every chapter aren't fun, so I won't do it. :D**

_**Lives in a Bottle**_

_Chapter 2: Metal_

BeckOliver wasn't one for regretting. Hurricanes and tornadoes don't feel remorse for the hundreds they've killed.

Why should he?

The clouds don't regret shielding the Sun of human eyes.

Why should he?

But running down that gravel road, it suddenly occurred to him that he would be regretting ever giving Andre the God damn keys.

He was dead on.

With lavished hair sprawled in front of his eyes, only a couple of yards stood in between the actor-to-be and two totaled vehicles. The front part of Andre's car sprouting fast burning flames, along with the other driver's.

Stunned on lookers aligned the street, keeping well away from the wreck. A few of the men were on their cell phones calling for help while some women were gasping and wailing with shock.

Twinkling glass paired with gleaming gas were sprinkled across feet of desolate roadside.

Beck felt a shard of the transparent material dig into the heel of his foot.

Cheap ass shoes.

His fist clenched in pain as he extracted the piece of glass from his flesh. He continued forward, determined to save his friend.

"James Bond, Beck, James Bond."

Yeah, surely he's going to become a multi-million dollar spy whilst running into a burning car.

Nice.

The cringing sound of contracting and expanding metal ripped through the still twilight. The raging inferno assaulted Beck in ways he's never experienced before as he all but inched forward.

Instinctively, his arms hoisted up to protect a very handsome face.

He could vaguely hear muffled screamstelling him to get the fuck away from there over the crackling sound of fire.

Screw them.

The hiccups were substituted with lung twisting coughs and wheezing. His vision blurred as he finally found the passenger side door.

Opening it slowly, his eyes squinted as he searched for Andre. His eyes settled on a dark figure. The drunk teen sat in the driver's seat with a large gash on his head a swollen leg.

Beck winced at the crimson red blood trickling down Andre's face.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that his chest was still rising and falling.

Breathe.

"Thank God."

Whispers amidst a crisis.

A smile was planted on Andre's dark lips.

Sickly Tipsy.

Beck shook his head playfully and proceeded to haul his buddy out. His arms hooked onto Andre's abdomen as he pulled. Once out, Beck, at last, received aid from some men. When Andre was perched on the side of the road, out of harm's way, he felt he could relax.

Relief crept into his mind as he witnessed flashed of red and blue color the black sky in an array shifting lights.

Then, a reminder of the other car slithered into his head.

Shit.

"Indiana Jones, Beck, Indiana Jones."

He just needs a whip and a quirky side-kick.

He wasn't trying to be heroic. Hell, they were too cliché for his liking anyway. Besides, he had to save the other individual because this, in some strange turn of fate, was entirely his fault.

He should have (did) known better than to give those keys to Andre, no matter how much he had sworn he'd drive safe.

Beck could have blamed it on the booze, but didn't.

He could have blamed it on the cold, buy didn't.

He blamed it on his judgment.

So, he continued to sprint, engaging in yet another battle with the blistering flames. The little car (the part that wasn't turning into ashes) mingled in with the discolored background. He was going to go in through the passenger side door like he did with Andre, but the entire left side of the car had become an unrecognizable metal slate.

Damn.

He had no choice but to break the windshield.

Dramatic.

A deadened sensation took over his body. His memories were wiped and thoughts were forgotten.

Staring back at him was the battered and flimsy body of Jadelyn August West.

**PS- I have absolutely no idea what James Bond or Indiana Jones do. I just thought that Beck might like them. **

**PPS- Review? **


	3. Denouncement

_**Lives in a Bottle**_

_Chapter 3: Denouncement_

Never would Beck have thought that he'd actually be pleased to be ripped away from his girlfriend by emergency personnel.

Psycho.

Because perhaps he caused it. Because perhaps he's the reason maroon colored blood coated her face. Because perhaps it's his fault the Jaws of Life were brought in.

Perhaps.

And he just couldn't face her, even is she herself couldn't see him.

Maybe it was her fault.

Fuck no.

He had to find someone to blame, because he couldn't condemn himself. It used to be his fault, but anymore. He'd never hurt Jade.

She shouldn't have put it upon herself to go and get him. He would've called a cab like last time.

-He never did, and never would-

Because Beck is perfect, and there isn't margin for error in perfection. Flawless men don't harm women, especially not the one their faithful to.

But Andre was driving; it's all on him, right? He never should have driven drunk, yet he did.

Beck gave him the keys, though. Either way, it always came back to him.

Was he really the one to be denounced?

The bystanders actually fucking cheered for him when he was taken away from the wreckage like he was freakin' Batman. He'd title himself Joker.

Now, those idiots weren't applauding. Their sharp intakes of breath and low pitched cries nearly vanished beneath the sirens emitting from the ambulance as Jade was dragged out of the debris.

Beck stole a quick glance at Andre who, at the looks of it, was trying to get the gauze dressing off of his wound.

Will he be charged with a DUI? (minimal)

Probably.

Will Beck bail him out?

For a fact.

Beck completely lost his sanity as the gurney carrying crossed his path. The gentleman restraining him abruptly released his limbs as he stumbling to her side.

Matrix.

He leaned her head in his direction, venerating enticing curls and alluring lips. His legs took up a fast pace to keep up with her since the paramedics weren't about to slow down.

He flattened her hair back, like it would awaken her and cause her to curse at him for being an ass.

As they neared the ambulance, he was asked a question that wasn't yet fit to answer.

"What's your relationship to the victim?"

Beck glared at the questioner as if she was a lunatic.

The one chargeable to her demise?

Her retard?

The son of a bitch she may or may not love?

"Boyfriend."

Sure, take the leisurely way out.

The girl gave him a consoling look, like she knew what it was like.

Go to hell.

He let Jade enter the ambulance first; it was the manly thing to do. Tight white walls engulfed him immediately upon entering the life saving vehicle. With nothing but tiny red crosses decorating the interior, discomfort was almost defiantly closing in.

Jade found solace in cruel blacks and rustic purples, not bleached whites.

He sat on her right, a protective arm slung over her waist.

His paranoia soon grew apparent.

As the paramedic focused on saving Jade's life, Beck perceived that all of the bumps in the road were uncomfortable to her.

He carefully knocked on the thin glass separating them from the cockpit.

"Cou- could you slow it down a bit? You'll wake her up." He gestured to Jade's limp body.

The blonde guy looked back, a bit of disgust apparent in his expression. His light brown eyebrows furrowed as his tongue grazed his lips.

"Uh, sure?"

His head gyrated back to face the windshield, where he mimicked a person who'd be emitted into an insane asylum.

Madmen.

As the Sun slid over the horizon, its golden rays tickled over Beck and Jade's skin, simulating twinkling dancers.

She never liked dancers.

Beck and Jade always waited until the last episode of a soap opera to watch the entire series. That way, they'd know what was coming.

Beck never would've liked to foresee this future.

**Boring chapter, I know, but I felt that it was needed to show Beck's blame issues. He's not as sane as he may appear. :0**

**I may not update until Friday. I'm a very occupied person.**

**Review? (Pwetty Pwease?) **


	4. Hangover

**I apologize for the wait and my little temper tantrum. I'm sick and my dog had an operation and I've gotten down to my last nerve. The anon just got to me (NOT Lady Bug) So, I am sorry about that. But I finally updated! Yay. The next and last chapter will hopefully be posted by Tuesday. Enjoy. **

**Reviews are better than chicken soup for an ill author. :)**

_**Lives in a Bottle**_

_Chapter 4: Hangover_

_Run. _

_Don't look back. Escape your guilt by eluding the consequences. _

_Blue?_

_Why's everything blue?_

"_Beck… Beck…"_

_Echo._

"_Jade?"_

_Her voice holds throbbing memories – the ones you gave her. _

_She's crawling toward you, eyes locked on yours. A green dress garnishes her curved body and you can't help but stare. He arms wrap around your legs, obstructing a retreat. _

_Wait. _

_Your eyes widen as he beautiful smile becomes a wicked grin Her pupils dilate as blood streams down her face, staining flawless skin. Her head cocks as she stands to meet your height._

"_Remember me?"_

Beck awoke in a dreadfully cold sweat. His neck ached, along with his back. Pastel colored waiting room chairs aren't the best definition of luxury. His throbbing head and puking urges didn't go unnoticed, either.

Stupid hangover.

At least he wasn't alone.

Cat, Tori, and Robbie had all come, aware of Andre and Jade's predicaments.

The whole gang, reunited.

But Beck hadn't called them. Andre, possibly? He (they) hadn't seen Cat and Robbie many times after Hollywood Arts. The few times they did, they were always together, hand in hand.

Love Birds?

Jade still kept in contact with cute little Cat, a testament to their long-term friendship.

Robbie was just … there.

Trying to disregard the nightmare that attacked his sensibility, Beck surveyed his surroundings, absorbing many variations of white.

Cream?

No, white.

Only the clerk's purple stood out.

Cue exasperated sigh.

Tori, however, had remained more evasive, along with Trina, but no one really ever paid any mind to that half of the Vega sisters. Maybe Andre had seen her, (since he was head over heals for her,) but Beck never did.

Andre.

Was he in jail already?

He smacked a sleeping Robbie on the back of the head.

Dreary eyelids revealed sleep deprived eyes. Wrinkles and dark bags were scattered along his young face, though he didn't appear to be very young at all. His curled locks had lost their volume and gone flat. He'd stuck with Rex all through high school, but that odd puppet was no where to be seen now.

"Where's An-"

"He's handcuffed to a bed. Their treating his leg and concussion."

"Ja-"

Again, he was cutoff.

"After you fell asleep, she was taken to the ICU."

Why'd he have to get some damn rest?

Robbie sat a soothing hand on his shoulder. Cat's ruby colored head peered through.

"Andre may be taken to the state penitentiary," she informed.

Cat was different. She wasn't bubbly or carefree. She didn't let emotions and words flow out without consequences anymore. She now took a moment or two to plan out every letter her mouth would form.

Maybe she found out that "once upon a time" only exists in the world of Cinderella.

Or Disney World.

Tori sat right next to Beck, waiting impatiently to see Andre.

As Beck's hand rose to tap Vega's shoulder, a doctor stepped through the swinging doors. He wore a long blue coat and his thin hair was black, with the exception of gray streaks. His tan skin was glowing and his steps were mirrored with the confidence Beck wished he had. A gold little plaque hung off of the breast pocket, letters too small to be seen just yet.

"Jade West," his slightly there Latin accent echoed through the haunted hospital. His brown eyes searched for someone to lay claim to the name.

All of them stood.

Except for Tori.

The grudge she and Jade used to share was obvious to everyone, but the length it would last was never certain.

It withstood till now, apparently.

The physician strided over to them, worn check board in hand.

Beck squirmed and twitched his fingers in place, clearly fearing the report.

As he got closer, Beck could make out "Alex Guintanea" on the small reflective plaque. The doctor flipped through the papers clipped onto the clip board.

"One visitor is allowed inside Ms. West's room."

Immediately, the other two sank back into their seats.

Bail.

Taking that as his signal, Dr. Guintanea disappeared through the double doors, Beck trailing behind, head low, and hands dead in pockets.

Room 31B.

The doctor held open the heavy door, urging Beck in.

He did as commanded.

The door shut behind them as Beck trailed Jade's bed with a finger.

Alex let out a tired sigh.

"Look son, her health is deteriorating at an alarming rate. Her chances are slim, if any."

The sheets were up to her neck. Was she cold? The blood had been washed off of her face along with any and all makeup.

Gorgeous.

Beck didn't fight it. He didn't throw punches at the wind and deny it. He took it like a man, though he wasn't one. He walked over to her and held her hand. He kissed the pulse point in her neck.

He just needed to know she was still alive.


	5. Giggles

**Sigh, I can't believe it's the end! I want to thank all you reading and especially those who reviewed. It meant the world to me. :) Kudos to you.**

_**Lives in a Bottle**_

_Chapter 5: Giggles_

This isn't Beck.

Beck's calm and collected and the one everyone wants to be, but never will.

Not any longer.

He's fed up with all of the pitiful glances and grief stricken stares. He doesn't need it. He gives them to himself. Because he doesn't cry or shy away from his troubles.

And yet he was.

He's drinking again and, now, it's the only thing he can trust on to not go and ruin his life. Night is approaching and he'll welcome the darkness 'cause he just can't look at himself anymore. He can't face what Jade did to him, and he won't behold what he's done, too.

So he finds solace in his car, in front of the playground he skinned his knee at. He guzzled the beer down his throat, not caring how many shitty brain cells he was murdering because they were never there when he needed them. When he started he took small, insignificant sips until he realized that if he continued like that, everything would become real and shinning stars would fall, and forgotten keepsakes would rise again.

He never liked them.

"_You're drinking."_

Her drum-beat voice severs the walls he'd built to shield himself from the world. It chatters along his heart, exploring every crevice she knows belongs to her. And that's where the trouble lies: he doesn't want it to be hers. He wants it to be his alone so he can burn it in a fiery hell. Because maybe then he won't feel, and he won't sob, and he can push them all away and just fucking hide.

He just wants to be like Jade. And maybe that's why he loves her, because she's everything he's not.

His fists collide with the windshield and blood layers his knuckles. But, just as planned, the beer suffocates the ache.

"Just shut the fuck up! Shut…"

He's grimy and dirty and his hair's greasy and he knows pedestrians can hear him. His clothes are dingy and it's almost certain an awful stench has adopted him.

"_Who you yelling at, Beck?"_

And then he notices she's not there. His muscles relax as he brings a can of spiked lemonade to his lips. He is more sober than he's been in years and yet he'd be considered intoxicated. He (just like the rest of the God damn population) is a lunatic.

He gazes at the toddlers roughhousing and giggling and squealing in delight. The corners of his mouth twitch in a grin, but he soon recalls that Jade doesn't particularly like giggles, so he'll hate them too.

His eyes water as more tears begin to fall, branding the yellow bottle in his lap. Then he remembered what he came here for: to remember, though he never really did forget.

He bent toward the passenger's seat, clanking bottles left in his wake. Black bangs fell in his face, inhibiting his already limited sight. But it wasn't really needed; with the loss of vision, his other senses heightened. His hand pulled on the clutch to reveal the contents of the glove department. He rummaged through all of the old cassettes and neglected sheets of paper, searching for a messy pile of sticky notes.

You could call them memories.

Or sticky notes. Whichever you prefer.

They were his assortment of better times, with a rainbow of colors ranging from neon greens to swinging blues.

Though they weren't photographs, or even postcards, they were frozen lapses of time, portraying moments when he and Jade were truly content. Those little pieces of paper were worth more than all of the pain in the ass years he wasted without her. Once Beck finally tore down Jade's insecurities, she began to leave him messages, on occasion.

He peeled off the first, sun bright pink pad off of the sloppy stack.

**Hi Beck!**

It was simple, and yet so realistic. He let out a deep sigh, recollecting where he had found it. Jade had recently departed for a trip to Sacramento and she'd stayed with him the night before. He returned to his bed from the bathroom only to find her and her belongings gone. A lone pillow with the imprint of his head still on it was left, along with the note.

Beck reached for the next one, a sour orange one.

**People say they see a man on the moon. I see our dreams**

His expression unknowingly fell. He returned home from an audition and found it fastened to his RV door. He was so corny that he actually looked up at the freaking moon. Too bad for him it was at the New Moon phase. Now, their dreams would almost certainly never come true. But maybe that's what they deserved for believing they ever would.

He skipped a couple of the notes until he reached a peachy yellow one.

**Congratulations, you're dating me**

Beck let a breathy chuckle escape his mouth. He discovered this one on the picture he kept on the stand near his television. It depicted their hands (one tan, one pale, one with black nail polish, one with a silly band) linked together, though no one would guess it was them.

Funny, huh?

It's his favorite picture.

He flipped through the heap one last time and finally found the one, white sticky pad. He striped it off and held it in front of his bloodshot eyes.

**I love you, you bastard :)**

This one was special. And it wasn't even because of the I love you; it's they way she wrote it. Because it's like her, something she would actually say. She had stuck it on his chest right before pecking him on the cheek and gliding away. Even her scent still lingered.

Vanilla and Sharpie.

He set it down and savored his beer again. He dried his tears with the hem of his shirt, disgusted at its charcoal smell. The children's laughter dulled behind his as he eyed the cliff ledge down the road. He needed to be with Jade again, though he was confident she wouldn't be at the hospital. That's what the doctor said, right?

His eyes provided minimal vision, but he could still make out its faint figure. He turned the key and grunted as the engine ignited. He clutched the sticky pads and heard the crunching sound as his fist contrasted

He sniffled one last time and ran a hand through his messy hair. He turned the wheels to face forward and slammed on the gas. He shut his eyes and waited.

Fiery red. Endless black. Solemn white.

/

Emotionally charged blue eyes fluttered open. Blurry images of fire played before like a broken record. Her head hurt like hell and no amount of damn Advil would dull the pain. The old TV was playing above her stiff bed, with the volume set on low. She realized that all her makeup had been erased.

Damn it.

Her insecurities were more apparent than ever. Her eyes settled on the petite figure of Cat valentine. Jade was startled.

When she'd get here?

She was always such and amazing companion. Sweet little Cat.

Jade tried to move, but the needles and wires sticking into her prohibited it.

She just needed someone.

"Beck?"

_FIN_

**Gasp.**

**I just killed Beck. **


End file.
